Vision of an Angel
by Catnipisnotonfire12
Summary: Set Seasons 2 and 4. Perhaps he'd forgotten, the visions had always been a blur Sam wanted to forget, but he'd seen him – the angel in the trench coat – before. With the cold and obeying stare that longed for free will. Maybe Sam didn't remember the vision of the Angel Castiel. But Dean did. Extra details inside. One Shot. No slash! I guess this can be classed as slight AU, but...


**Slight AU, I guess, set Season 2/4. Perhaps he'd forgotten, the visions had always been a blur Sam wanted to forget, but he'd seen him – the angel in the trench coat – before. With the cold and obeying stare that longed for free will. Maybe Sam didn't remember the vision of the Angel Castiel. But Dean did. Extra details inside. One Shot. **

**Basically, Dean (S4) recognising Castiel from a description his brother had given him from a vision (S2, obviously one I've made up) – and debating whether or not he should trust Castiel. **

**I don't own Supernatural – if I did, there'd be less oh-lets-watch-your-favourite-character-die-this-we ek-then-bring-them-back-lol-nope-let's-kill-them-a gain-wait-lol-jk-their-alive.**

**Enjoy! **

There Dean sat, alongside Bobby in the old warehouse decked with every kind of summoning Sigil the two could think of.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean huffed, staring around. If there were Angels to pray to, he'd sure as Hell be praying to one now hoping to end the relentless boredom and allow 'Castiel' to show up.

_Castiel. _That wasn't a name he had heard in a while. For two years, in fact. One of the many names that had popped up during one of Sam's visions, a name that stuck out in Dean's head like no other. A name that he ultimately distrusted, yet he felt that the name's owner was trustworthy at the same time.

Bobby didn't grace Dean with an answer, just a look of annoyance directed at him. "Sorry, touchy, touchy, huh?"

Once again, Bobby didn't answer. This time, however, it wasn't because Dean was being plainly ridiculous.  
A loud, torturous rattle shook the roof of the warehouse – lights flickering dramatically – sparks flying everywhere, igniting the air before flitting to nothing on the cold, hard ground.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe that's just the wind?" Dean tried to suggest, but Bobby merely glared at him.

Another harsh shake, and instantly Dean was stood poised and ready to attack with a gun in his hand and Bobby by his side at the back of the room, a blinding light that lasted a mere moment shone through as a man, around six foot with tired eyes and donning a long trench coat, walked through.

Objects shook as he walked, as if the man with the cold stare and pained expression was a living earthquake.

Dean's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, the beats getting faster and louder with each second passing. Nothing could kill this man, well; at least bullets had no effect. They went straight through him like no other creature Dean had ever seen.  
Even just for support, Dean wished Sammy was with him. Then again, maybe it was better his baby brother stayed out of the action. If this man was immortal, Dean would happily go straight back to Hell to save Sam from him.

He was edging ever closer, and Dean's ammo was running dangerously low. "Who are you?"

The thundering on both the outside and within stopped – as did the gunfire from Dean and Bobby. That didn't stop Dean from holding the gun tightly, finger brushing gingerly over the trigger.

Standing dead still, and looking directly into the older Winchester's eyes, he uttered:

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

Dean's Supernatural radar was going off the scale, this guy was fifty shades of creepy, and Dean sensed that he didn't bring Dean back out of the goodness of his heart. If he had one.

"Yeah...Thanks for that."

For a lingering moment, the silence was blissful, awkward and frightening – all at once. Dean had dropped his gun to the side, as had Bobby. Probably a clear sign to whatever stood before Dean that he meant peace.

Well, Dean had a conscience, but stabbing this son of a bitch in the back (or rather, the chest) wasn't going to weigh too heavily upon it.

In one quick, swift movement Dean pulled his knife from behind him, plunging in straight into the man's chest.

He didn't know what to expect. For him to crumple down and scream in agony? For black smoke to flood out of the vessel?  
Instead, he stood there, unfazed, and staring at the knife.

He barely had time to pull it out before Bobby snuck up behind him, preparing a surprise kill. Or, what was supposed to be a surprised kill.  
The man, without even looking, took hold of Bobby's blade and spun him around. Dean's heart was hammering fast now; his entire body shaking. If this guy was that good at fighting, and was seemingly immortal – how were they supposed to get out of this one?

Raising two fingers, the man touched Bobby's forehead – sending him to the ground. Stone cold murder that made Dean's blood boil with anger.

Ever mysterious, the man kept his same calm and cold composition and told Dean, never breaking eye contact:  
"We need to talk, Dean. Alone."

-LineBreaker-

Forget talking, Dean rushed straight to his father figure's side, checking for a pulse – something that is extremely difficult to do when you're head is a mess and your hands are fumbling uncontrollably.

"Your friend's alive." The man affirmed.

Dean's breath was ragged, the relief of Bobby's survival barely touched the anger he felt.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

The answer was one that he was certainly expecting, but certainly one he wanted.

"Castiel."

In a flash, Dean recalled Sam's vision two years ago. _But it could always be nothing – Castiel might be a popular name among monsters. _Dean tried uselessly to convince himself. _It doesn't have to be the angel Sammy saw. Angels don't exist. _

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, staring at the floor for a second – before summoning a quick and abrupt confidence. "I figured that much, I mean _what _are you?"

The answer killed Dean, heart dropping – maybe even disappearing all together.  
"I am an Angel of the Lord."

His mind properly flashed back to two years ago then, when Sammy had a strange vision of an Angel – one named Castiel.

_It had been a couple of days since Sam and Dean had solved the case of Andy Gallagher, another child like Sam visited by the demon as a child and given powers, along with his evil twin brother Ansem Weems.  
"Huh," Dean grinned, reading a bunch of papers loosely kept and fluttering around in a messy jumble.  
"What?" Sam asked, looking at his brother with curiosity. _

"_Oh nothing, just the last case. With Andy and all. It's just – the evil twin thing is kind of cliché, you know, like an old crappy movie."_

"_Yeah, but it's not as funny as a movie when you're actually seeing the murders before the evil twin commits them." Sam huffed, glaring at the crappy motel room with fading yellow wallpaper. _

"_Whoa, touchy. Calm down Sammy, we saved Tracy didn't we? And stopped Ansem." Dean reasoned._

"_Yeah, but we didn't save Dennis, or the guy that shot him, or Holly Beckett." Sam lay down, slumped across the old worn motel bed, closing his eyes._

_Dean rolled his eyes - trust Sammy to get worked up over this. "Oh come on Sam, you know it's not your fault – you did all you could to save them. We're only human Sam, we can't save everyone, no matter how much we'd like to."_

_Sam sighed in defeat. "Am I, though? What if this demon infected me or something, like, what if I'm not fully human?" _

_This was just getting stupid. Dean pulled a pillow from his bed, throwing it at his brother._

"_Ow!"_

"_You're one hundred percent human, Sam. One. Hundred. Percent. Now stop beating yourself up for things completely out of your control! Think you could do that while I take a shower? Because I seriously don't want to have to walk out nude to tell you to quit worrying."_

_Sam forced a smile, nodding. "That's an image I will quite happily banish from my mind." _

_Dean washed in the unpredictable motel shower, permanently turning from Antarctica cold to Hell hot without any coaxing. Needless to say, that was the quickest shower Dean had taken in a long time. _

_He dried, hair still dripping slightly onto the back of his jacket, as he stumbled back into the room. _

"_Sammy, want some chips? I think there's some Doritos in my bag," Dean offered, fumbling through; heading straight for a cherry pie and grabbing a beer from the mini fridge. _

"_What? Uh...No, no thanks Dean. I'm...I'm good." Sam muttered between laboured breaths. Instantly, Dean dropped the food.  
"You OK Sammy?" _

_Sam, however, couldn't answer. His hand flew straight to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fell down – head slamming against the headboard.  
"V-Vision!" He stammered, but Dean didn't need to be told. Instantly, probably crushing his pie beneath his feet, he was at his brother's side – holding him upright to keep him from falling. Clearly, without Dean's grasp, Sam would have collapsed onto the floor in agony. His eyes flitted closed for a brief second, before re-opening – but clearly no longer focused on Dean, but a vision only visible to him._

**Damn visions – why do they have to be so painful?**_ Dean thought, looking at his brother with more than sympathy – with shame. Dean was ashamed that Sam was experiencing this pain, yet there was nothing he could do to stop it – just mumble soft nonsense in his ear and hold him upright as Sam rode it out. _

_Sam's grip was becoming looser; his body far more slack. A sure sign that he was slowly waking from his limbo state.  
Dean's eyes were locked on his brother and, after a moment, Sam eyes were staring back. Actually at him this time, not dazed off into the distance._

"_You okay Sammy?" Dean breathed, still gripping his brother tight. There was no way in Hell he was letting Sam go until he was one hundred percent sure he was able to stay up on his own for at least five minutes. _

"_I...Yeah. Actually. Yeah." Sam was smiling – a smile that Dean could tell was genuine, not protective or fake.  
In a way, Dean wished the smile had been forced. That would make more sense, at least. If Sam's visions were always about bloody deaths about to happen, then why was he smiling contently? _

"_What happened? Do you know who died?" Dean questioned, leaving Sam alone for one fateful second to retrieve some Tylenol and a glass of water drawn from an unpredictable motel tap. _

_Sam swallowed the pills quickly before he begun to explain. "This vision...It wasn't like the others. There was this man in a trench coat and this...depression face...Well, he wasn't a man – he was possessed." _

_Dean's heart skipped a beat. "So we're dealing with a demon?" _

_To his brother's confusion, Sam shook his head. "No, in fact he was possessed by an angel."_

"_What?" Dean nearly choked on his own breath. "There's no such thing Sammy, you know that." _

"_There is. His name...He said it...Ugh...I...I can't remember. Cestal? Castel? No..." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to remember the name of the so called angel.  
"Look Sam, no matter what that thing you saw is-"_

"_-An angel!"_

"_Yeah...Well whatever, what was it doing?" If something claiming to be an angel was murdering people, then Sammy should stop smiling and start packing. They'd head straight to the roadhouse to get Ash to search up this thing. _

"_Castiel! I remember, his name was Castiel. And he wasn't doing anything...He was talking to me." _

_Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Look, Sam even if that is true – an angel kick-started a vision randomly – why would he talk to you?" _

_Sam looked a little more alert as he slowly began to recall his vision. "Castiel I...I can't remember. Well, I can – but only bits. Like, how he'd help you – __**r**_**aise**_ you was his exact term – when the time was right. That Heaven had plans for you, Dean."_

_Dean scoffed. "Plans? What would Heaven want from me? I'm not exactly the most religious nut out there, am I?"_

"_I...I don't know Dean. He said that one day, not sure when, he would come to us and...And...Oh I can't remember. Just that we should trust him, as in times of desperate need he will rely on us, as we will rely on him."_

_Unable to respond, even think, Dean stood there. Staring.  
Eventually, he managed to stammer:  
"Why would an angel – if such a thing exists – want us to rely on him? What he puts you through that crap just to talk to you and we're supposed to trust it?"_

"_But Dean-"_

"_No Sam, forget it! Just pretend it didn't happen – OK?" Dean demanded, almost yelling. _

_For a second, it looked like Sam might argue, but instead he just sighed. "Okay." _

_Dean walked away – he didn't have a particular destination – he just felt the need to move away from the situation. _

"_Hey Dean-"_

"_Forget it Sam." Dean didn't miss a beat cutting his younger brother off._

"_Yeah, I will. It's just...I trust it. Him. Castiel. The angel. The vision. So you know."_

_Dean sighed, closing his eyes and retrieving his beer and pie from the floor. _

"_Whatever Sammy, just get some sleep." _

"_Right." Sam sighed, defeated. _

Dean and Sam never brought the topic of Castiel, the Angel of the Lord that decided to take a trip into Sam's visions, up again. Slowly, but surely, lost in the blur of visions he had so frequently, Sam forgot about him. The Angel in the trench coat and blue eyes that were cold, tired and obeying, yet longed for free will, was out of his little brother's memory.

But never, not once, did the freakish image leave Dean's.

At first Dean was sure it was Azazel invading his visions, distorting them and giving Sammy a false sense of hope. Then, when nothing else related to the 'angel' popped up, Dean dismissed the idea. Over time, Dean just ignored the topic – tried to clear it from his mind. Yet it still niggled there, in his memory.

And here he was, the angel as described by Sam named Castiel.

Quite frankly, Dean didn't know what to think.

He was forced back to reality, and quickly came to his last resort – if he counters this statement – then it truly was the Angel. If not...Then...Dean had been given a lucky escape.

"Get the Hell out of here, there's no such thing." Dean affirmed, confidence wavering slightly.

"This is your problem Dean, you have no faith." Castiel stepped over Bobby, emotionless and stoic. Looking almost dead inside – but that may have been the vessel's expression.

Suddenly, the lightning flared up again – flashing and thundering loudly. The warehouse darkened, and thick, long and black wings stretch behind Castiel – almost as if they were a projection.

The lightning and thunder stopped, the wings disappearing.

Dean had no idea how to respond – so he responded the only way he knew how. A witty retort.  
"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes!" There would never be a day that passed would Dean not feel ashamed for Pamela losing her vision.

Castiel heartlessly shrugged. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be...Overwhelming to humans, so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

Dean's mind flashed back to the past few days – the loud almost _ringing _that nearly defended him.  
"You mean the Gas Station and the Motel? That was you talking?"

Castiel didn't bother with an answer – just a nod.

"Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

Dean huffed. No matter what Sammy said, every time this guy opened his mouth he couldn't help but want to punch him. Though, judging by the stab and bullet wounds it wouldn't phase him anyhow.

"And what visage are you in now, huh? Holy tax accountant."

Castiel looked down at himself for a fleeting second. "This? This is a vessel."

Once again Dean was reminded of Sammy's words. "You're possessing some poor bastard?"

"He is a devout man. He actually prayed for this."

Dean scoffed. _Yeah, as if some poor guy is going to pray to have his life and body taken over by some ignorant angel. _

"Yeah well I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

The cold stare turned to one of minor anger, the angel frowned slightly. "I told you."

This encounter was getting both stupider and freakier by the minute. "Right, and why would an Angel rescue me from Hell?"

For such a small person, or vessel, Castiel sized up to Dean easily – looking him dead in the eye.

"Good things do happen Dean."

Dean had seen so many deaths, heartaches, visions, torture, it was hard to believe in the goodness of humanity anymore. Or even the goodness of those outside of the human species. _Especially _those outside of the human species.

"Not in my experience."

"What's the matter?" He began to peer at Dean curiously, as if he was reading him. He'd slam the bastard straight back into Heaven (thinking about it, that didn't sound much of a threat, but seeing as he didn't seem to die, that looked like the only way to rid of him) if he truly was reading Dean.  
"You don't think you deserve to be saved?"

_I don't. _Was all Dean could think bitterly. He was a disease – spreading pain and misery and death everywhere he went.

"Why'd you do it?" Dean breathed, glaring at the Angel.

That was when he uttered those words, those fateful words, that Sam had said would happen. The very thing that sealed the deal.

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

Perhaps he didn't trust this angel, or any other angels he was in league with, but Dean did trust Sammy. And if Sam trusted Castiel – Dean would have to learn to trust him too. Or, at least try to. Because for Sammy, Dean would do whatever was asked of him. Whether the orders were from Heaven, or from Hell.

If his brother trusted him – Dean would try his hardest to do the same. Because that's what he did when it came to Sammy.  
Just as that's what Sam did when it came to Dean.

**...**

**OH GOD THAT WAS HORRIBLE I CAN'T EVEN BREATHE. **

**Please, no hate. But review? :3 My first Supernatural fic, so suggestions are welcome :3 **

**-Catnipisnotonfire12 **


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